


Coming Home Used to Feel So Good (I'm a Stranger Now in My Neighborhood)

by Origen



Category: Original Work
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Crossdressing, Getting Together, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23900812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Origen/pseuds/Origen
Summary: “There’s this guy. I know he’s out of my league, but. You should see him. He’s gorgeous, and I’ve wanted him for ages. He lives next door, and sometimes I sit out on the front steps just so that I have an excuse to talk to him. I wish I could show him the dresses I’ve made. Sometimes I like to imagine him telling me I’m pretty while he fucks me.”
Relationships: DILF/Underage Camboy Next Door, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33
Collections: Id Pro Quo 2020





	Coming Home Used to Feel So Good (I'm a Stranger Now in My Neighborhood)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlight/gifts).



“Hi, Mr. Campania, what you got there?”

The neighbor kid Devon was sitting on the steps outside his front door. Waiting for the mailman, looked like. He waved as Lonnie locked up the car.

“Oh, nothing special,” Lonnie lied. “Just some grocery shopping.”

“That’s cool.”

“You should get inside. It’s below freezing tonight, and you don’t have a coat on. Don’t want to catch a cold, now do you?”

“No, Mr. Campania,” Devon said, pleasant and respectful, the epitome of a well-raised boy. That’s what everybody in their leafy suburban neighborhood thought.

Everybody except Lonnie. Lonnie knew Devon’s secret, but he wasn’t about to share it with the rest of the world! “Have a good night, Devon,” he called out.

“Sure thing!” Devon waved again.

* * *

His Grindr hookup was already waiting for him inside the house. Must’ve let himself in around the back as instructed. Lonnie examined him from head to toe with a connoisseur’s experienced eye. Young. Barely legal. Overall, he thought, the resemblance was excellent. Lonnie was pleased.

“Any special requests?” the hookup asked. He was leaning against the back of Lonnie’s couch, shoulders back, hips out. Louche. Seductive. And he was already half-hard in his jeans, Lonnie could tell.

“Yeah. Wear these when I fuck you.” Lonnie rifled through his shopping bag until he found what he was looking for. He threw the cellophane-wrapped package at the hookup. The hookup caught it.

“My, my, my. How kinky. I would never have guessed.”

The package in question contained an expensive pair of barely there lace panties.

“You okay with that? I’d’ve asked you to wear the dress, too, but I don’t think it’ll fit you,” Lonnie said.

“Dress, huh? Cute. But yeah, sure. I’ll wear the panties.”

“That’s fantastic, thanks,” Lonnie said. He paused. What came next was always the hardest part. “One more thing: Do you mind if I call you ‘Devon’?”

The hookup laughed amicably and rolled his eyes—such a boyishly immature gesture, and it sent a bolt of electricity straight to Lonnie’s groin. “Old man, if your cock is as big as you say it is in your profile, you can call me whatever the fuck you like!”

“I’m exactly the size I said it was, Devon,” Lonnie said, trying out the name. Then he pounced.

* * *

The first time happened by accident. He’d been bored and tired, too tired, almost, even to jerk off, and instead of closing down his internet browser for the night, as he’d intended to, he’d clicked on a random clickbait sidebar ad instead.

Next thing he knew, he’d joined some camboy’s live feed. The kid wasn’t doing anything sexual, just talking about stupid kid stuff at the camera—school, videogames, whatever—and normally, Lonnie would’ve clicked right back out of t-rated bullshit like that in a heartbeat.

Except for one thing. The camboy wasn’t just any kid talking about stupid kid stuff. The camboy was the neighbor kid. _Devon_.

And because it was Devon, Lonnie couldn’t help himself. His infernal curiosity got the better of him, and he kept on watching, entranced by the boyish prattle about sports and school and the friends who didn’t _really_ understand him. Lonnie had never had anything but the most superficial of conversations with Devon, and here Devon was, pouring his heart and soul out to the faceless internet masses.

He kept coming back. He even became a paid subscriber. He didn’t know why, at first. Devon was a cute kid, after all, but he was also jailbait. However much Lonnie might like ’em young, he also liked being on the right side of the law. He told himself that since Devon only ever seemed to talk about stupid kid stuff, and had never, to Lonnie’s knowledge, filmed himself below the waist, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Besides, he told himself, he was gaining valuable insight into the neighborhood. Kids knew things adults didn’t.

And after a while, it became clear that Devon didn’t just talk about stupid kid stuff. He was also in the throes of puberty and, like every thirteen year old before him, keen to explore his sexuality. He was attracted to men, he admitted one night to the camera, and he thought he might be gay.

Devon also liked wearing girls’ clothes. Sometimes he wore a dress in front of the camera. A frilly number, with puffy sleeves and pinafores and lace around the neckline. “I don’t want to be a girl,” he said. “I mean, I get why you might think that. But I don’t. It’s just…the dresses make me feel nice. The panties, too.”

That’s when it happened. In reality, it was probably over in a couple of seconds. But to Lonnie, it felt like a lifetime. Devon got up from his seat, lifted the layers of his gauzy, frilly skirts, and showed his underwear to the camera. They were silk and lace. White. And so skimpy that Lonnie could see _everything_. The lithe waist, the jut of the hipbones, the skinny, hairless thighs.

The boyish cock trapped behind the lace. Flaccid, uncircumcised…positively _scrumptious_.

After that, Devon went right on talking about dresses—he made his own, apparently. A hidden talent. But Lonnie, who’d been watching the live feed in bed, his laptop balanced on his chest, wasn’t really listening anymore. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and he was biting down on the back of his hand to keep from screaming as he shot his load so high that he was on his mattress on tiptoes and scrubbing the stain off the ceiling the next day.

Long story short? Lonnie was obsessed.

* * *

He did manage to tide himself over with the Grindr hookups, more or less, when masturbating to Devon’s otherwise innocuous live feed wasn’t enough to satiate his cravings.

Yes, he knew he ought to be ashamed. Lonnie was over forty, and he couldn’t get the neighbor kid out of his head. It would’ve been easier if it’d just been about the sexual attraction. Sexual attraction was definitely a part of it, yeah, but beautiful kids were a dime a dozen on the internet. Thing was, watching him so much meant that Lonnie felt like he’d actually gotten to _know_ Devon, and he’d come to like him as a human being. Care for him, even. He’d listened to the kid’s whole life story—it was only natural that he’d become invested!

“It’s my birthday today,” Devon said to the camera.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” Lonnie said reflexively to his laptop screen. He was spending a quiet weekend evening alone at home, tucked into bed with glass of burgundy already warming his belly and Devon’s live feed on his laptop screen.

“Yeah. So. It’s my birthday today. And here I am, fourteen years old, and instead of partying with friends I don’t have I’m all by myself and talking to you guys. I don’t even get a cake and song from Mom and Dad today because they’re away on a business trip and won’t be back till Tuesday—”

“Aww, poor kid,” Lonnie muttered. He turned to look out his bedroom window. The neighbors’ house was dark and quiet; if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought nobody was home. “I’d sing you ‘Happy Birthday’…”

“—don’t need the song or the stupid cake. Know what I _really_ want for my birthday? I wanna get laid.”

Lonnie chuckled. “Admirable goal.”

“There’s this guy. I know he’s out of my league, but. You should see him. He’s gorgeous, and I’ve wanted him for ages. He lives next door, and sometimes I sit out on the front steps just so that I have an excuse to talk to him. I wish I could show him the dresses I’ve made. Sometimes I like to imagine him telling me I’m pretty while he fucks me.” Devon sighed sadly and picked at the lace trim adorning his dress’s neckline. “If he knew what I was really thinking, he’d call me a freak and tell my parents…”

Lonnie was standing at the neighbors’ front door and ringing the doorbell before he was even consciously aware of having left the house. The temperature was frigid, and he was barefoot. Otherwise, all he had on was a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants. He didn’t care. No response to the doorbell that Lonnie could detect. He rang it again and pounded on the door for good measure. “Devon?” he called. No response. He tried the knob and realized that it was unlocked.

Then he was through the front door and up the stairs and into Devon’s bedroom, where beautiful Devon in his beautiful baby doll dress was half-risen in surprise. “M-Mr. C-Campania?!” he stuttered.

“You look so pretty in that dress, Devon,” Lonnie said.

And then they were kissing and clutching at each other, and Lonnie’s hands were everywhere. Cupping Devon’s face, palms wet with Devon’s happy tears. Stroking his neck and shoulders and arms and back and hips, mussing up Devon’s dress as he lifted the skirt feel those lace panties underneath, to cup those pert buttocks as Devon pressed closer, closer, _closer_ , to lift him up as he threw all four limbs around Lonnie’s body, and to place him back down gently on his bed.

“Oh! Mr. Campania…!” Devon whimpered. The skirt of his baby doll dress was rucked up around his neck and chest. His cock, trapped beneath the lace panties, was hard as iron, and the tip of the glans was peeking out from within the foreskin and soaking the lace with precome.

Lonnie knelt down between Devon’s legs and began mouthing Devon’s sweet little cock through the lace, tonguing, sucking, tasting the salt of the precome and adding his own saliva to the mix until the panties were practically soaking. Ahhh, he tasted so good! It was everything Lonnie could’ve dreamed! And Devon was writhing and thrusting his hips up, arching his spine, whining for more. “Oh, God, fuck me, Mr. Campania, please, oh, please, please! I want your cock in me, I need it so bad. Please, oh, please, oh, please…!”

Lonnie yanked down his sweatpants, just enough to expose himself. He too was already hard as iron, and when Devon saw what he had to offer, he licked his lips and moaned. “Yeeesss,” he hissed. “Oh, God, yeeesss…” Lonnie tugged the lace panties aside to expose the starburst of his hole, tight and clenching. Virginal. Lonnie rubbed his tip against the muscle, teasing, wondering how to proceed—when Devon wailed. _Wailed_. The sound was wanton, hungry, and it slammed into the reptilian seat of Lonnie’s lust like an out-of-control freight train. He tensed, groaned, and painted Devon’s hole with thick, white come.

Well, that solved one problem. “Ready, sweetie?”

Devon spread his legs wider in response.

Lonnie pushed his cock in. Heat. Tightness. Exquisite. Lonnie bottomed out, took a deep breath, waited. Adjusted himself. That first ejaculation had taken a bit of the edge off, and he was now clear-headed enough to understand that Devon was almost certainly cherry. “My beautiful birthday boy,” he murmured. “I’ll make this good for you. So good. I promise.”

“H-How did you…?” Devon never finished asking his question. It was cut off by a choked sob as Lonnie began to thrust.

For once in his sexually active life, he was grateful for his age and experience. He knew his own body and its limits; he knew what pleased other partners; and he knew how to gauge Devon’s responses as he stimulated the boy’s prostate with each push. Slow, strong, and steady—that was the ticket! Devon clutched frantically at Lonnie’s shoulders, pulling him down, wanting his weight. The moist sounds of flesh meeting flesh and the musky scents of sex filled the air. They were too deep into it to kiss now, but they nuzzled each other, their breath mingling.

Eventually Devon let go and came untouched, soiling those pretty lace panties with his semen. Lonnie filled Devon to the brim moments later.

* * *

“Hi, Mr. Campania, what you got there?”

Devon was sitting out on the front steps. He looked like he might be waiting for the mailman, but in actuality, Lonnie knew he was waiting there especially for him.

“Oh, nothing special,” Lonnie said.

Devon deflated slightly.

“Just a little something fun for later.” He winked.

“Cool!” Devon’s sunny smile made Lonnie’s heart—and other places lower down—ache. He waved. “Catch you later, then?”


End file.
